Briony Tallis's The Trials Of Arabella
by luemsqiowes
Summary: A modernised version of the play Briony Tallis wrote. Rated T for mild mild language.
1. Chapter 1

**A Modernised Version Of Briony Tallis's 'The Trials Of Arabella' From Atonement by Ian McEwan **

I guess I've always been a bit of a day-dreamer.

Of course, days upon months upon years of solitary life in a single grey room at the top of a grey tower probably contributed to that fact.

I had a certain fantasy that I would brood over for years. My name was Nadine. I was a typical teenager, the oh-my-gosh-that-guy-is-so-fit-and-crap-I've-lost-my-lippy teenager. I was decked out in the coolest teenager clothes - amber dresses, eggplant miniskirts, navy tracksuits… and I could hang out with my mates till any hour of the night. I had normal parents. A school. A boyfriend. A best friend. A puppy.

A life.

If anyone complains about _not_ being a princess again, I will seriously punch them till I can fit them into a match box and carry them around.

And then I want that inch beaten with a pipe.

Stop laughing. Princess life is anything but funny. That must be why I ran away.

Funny story really. I'll tell you.

I'd been in that tower for as long as I could remember. The only people I'd ever seen were my parents, and the maids and servants, so life couldn't really get much more boring.

A Prince would come one day, my mother assured me, to rescue me. He'd sweep my off my feet, onto his horse and we'd ride into a sunset, have lots of children, rule a kingdom… the usual. I'd heard this story before but I'd question my mother about the guy till she turned blue, the poor woman.

Would he be handsome?

"Undoubtedly, dear. We won't let him in if he's not."

Would he hack through brambles and such to get to me, like Sleeping Beauty's prince?

"Good heavens no, your father just planted those rose bushes. Heaven help us if he crashes through _them_."

When would he come?

They had no answer for that one.

Years passed, and by the time I reached my seventeenth birthday I was pretty cheesed off that he hadn't come.

So I ran away.

I would become Nadine. I would marry a guy that _I_ chose, not some kid on a pony claiming to "rescue" me. I don't need rescuing from anywhere.

And that was it. I packed a rucksack minimally, just the necessities - there would be time for other things later, and I had plenty of money - and tried to find something suitable to wear.

No such luck, however - all my clothes were dresses. So instead I did a Lara Croft impression and tore my black dress down the sides of the skirt, so I could at least move my legs. All my shoes were stilettos, so I abandoned them completely and went bare foot, resolving to buy some simple trainers on my way out of town.

As for my hair, that was all elaborately collected up in pleats on the top of my head, and anything spare flowed down my back like a shimmering golden river.

Much too inconvenient - I pulled it all lose and simply tied it back.

I was ready.

I didn't think I'd ever have a need for those princess-y dresses again, so I used them for my escape - I tied them all together to make a long, colourful rope that I attached to my bed post. Then I flung the other end out of the only window. I was pretty sure that my four poster bed could support my weight - I'd climbed up it many times as a girl (again another product of endless boredom) and it'd never broken. So I abseiled expertly down the tower wall, hoping my parents wouldn't see me.

No, wait, that's stupid. I wasn't worried. The King and Queen are too busy to notice their daughter. They wouldn't know I'd taken off until weeks, months even, if I'm lucky, and by that time I planned to be well away from them.

My first goal was to get out of the village. That was easy enough, I knew my way round here from maps I'd studied; I knew every entrance, every exit - and every secret escape. However, there was one flaw in my master plan (mistress plan, actually).

The Moat.

I couldn't get over it, I couldn't tunnel under it, and there's no way round it - so I had to do the only thing left to do. I went through it. I took off my rucksack and threw it over the moat, where it fell with a dull thud on the grass, then I dived in.

At least I knew how to swim.

So there I stood on the other side, drenched right down to my skin and shivering like a naked Eskimo, and quite literally spouting more water than the fountain in the palace courtyard.

But I'm no quitter. I dragged my aching legs all the way to the village boundaries, crossed the line between my village and the neighbouring one, and collapsed onto a nearby bench. I didn't need to see my reflection to know what I looked like. I knew my hair would be a tangled dirty yellow mess. I knew my sleek dress would look like an old rag I'd dragged from a bush. I knew my ankles would be smothered in sloppy mud, too, but I didn't care.

Why didn't I care? Firstly, this was it - I'd escaped! So long, terrible life.

And secondly, there were more pressing issues on my mind than mud right now. For example, I could heard footsteps approaching.

'Well, well, well! If it isn't the little Princess! What are you doing out here then, my lovely?'

Oh no.

Oh yes.

Oh damn.


	2. Chapter 2

I knew that voice. That was none other than Jericho, the Evil Genius - or at least, he _said _he was a genius. Maybe he's just evil.

He stood, wrapped in his black cloak, his black hair swirling around his face in the biting autumn wind, and raised his heavy black eyebrows. I realised I hadn't answered him yet.

'I ran away.'

A rather gruesome smile twisted the man's features. '_You_ ran away? The Princess? Well, this world never fails to surprise me. Where are you running away to?'

'I… don't exactly know.'

'Then you won't mind talking to me for a bit then, will you?'

'I guess not.'

He perched himself on the edge of my bench, rested his chin on a white hand, and looked away, out across the grass back to the village I'd just come from. I could see my tower poking up over the other grey roofs. He didn't speak.

I'd never met anyone "evil" before. Is this how they behaved? When you met an evil person, did they ask about you, and then sit down next to you? He seemed normal enough to me.

I examined his face carefully. When you forgot that he was the bad guy, he was quite handsome, in a darkly mysterious way. There was a manly tone about the thin covering of stubble on his chin, and his cold black eyes were rather enchanting, once you saw past the icy layer that seemed to cloud them. And there was something striking about his broad cheekbones, and his sharp lips.

Wasn't the whole point of this, to fall in love with a guy _I _chose? Didn't it emphasize my point, if I chose the wrong guy? Wouldn't it shock my parents, when they see the headline about the 'PRINCESS AND VILLAIN SCANDAL'? Of course it would.

I sighed dramatically. 'If only I had a handsome prince.'

'What happened? He chickened out? His horse broke down?' He snickered, and for a moment I saw a remnant of the jealous schoolboy he must have once been.

'He didn't bother to come,' I spat bitterly, glad I didn't have to lie for that one.

'Shame. What a waste of pretty girl. Say,' he added, almost nonchalantly, 'would it matter if your prince wasn't… a prince?'

'Not really.'

'Then how would you like to come with me, my beauty? We'd be perfect together, I know we would. People would admire you, your beauty, your bravery, and you'd be rich beyond your wildest dreams…'

I put my head on one side in mock consideration. I looked carefully doubtful.

'You know this is what you want. Just give it a try.' His icy eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled. 'Yes, you want to, don't you?'

It wasn't really a question, so I nodded. It seemed rude not to. He offered me a white hand.

Hey. You only live once.

I took the hand, then snatched it back suddenly, with a yelp. 'Aah! You're freezing!'

He'd felt colder than a windy day in Antarctica, and his hands were like marble, so hard and white.

He shrugged mildly. 'I always get cold hands in the winter. You'll warm up, soon enough.' He still hadn't taken his hand back. 'Try again.'

So I did. And this time, he didn't let go. He stood up triumphantly, his hair whipping around his face again. 'Let's go back to my place - you don't want to be spotted so close to home. And besides,' he eyed my black dress that was flapping just as wildly as his cloak, 'You need to get changed.'

I nodded again, unable to push words through my chattering teeth. Anything would be better than this dress. And there would be baths, and beds… I jumped to my feet eagerly.

Anywhere had to be better than here.

Jericho strode off to the west, towing me behind him. Before I could gather enough breath to ask how we were getting there, he said, 'We'll have to walk, I'm afraid. I don't have a car, and anyway, it wouldn't be much use in this.' He gestured to the horizon on the left, where a dark building jutted out from the forest that was beginning to shroud us. 'We'll have to leave the trail; are you ok with that?'

Touched that he'd actually asked me, instead of dragging me straight through, I said I didn't mind. We kept on walking for a few minutes more, then he suddenly turned sharply left, leaving the road. For a moment, we were walking on grass, and my bare, aching feet were soothed. But then the grass turned to forest floor, and I gasped in pain. 'Ouch! My feet.' I abruptly dropped to the floor to examine them.

They were red and sore from my trudge through the village bare-footed. I briefly wondered if it would have been better to wear stilettos and risk breaking my ankles.

Jericho crouched down beside me, his dark hair brushing softly against my cheek.

'Oh dear. I guess shoes would have been too much trouble?'

'They were all high-heeled.'

'Now there's a dilemma.' He looked away, pondering something. I guessed his thoughts.

_My dignity, or a princess for a bride?_

'Not much of a choice,' he concluded, 'so I guess my dignity will have to wait awhile.' He looked down at me. 'Yes.'

'Yes?'

'I'm afraid I'll have to carry you. You don't mind?'

'Anything's better than walking.'

He lifted my head to put a strong arm underneath it. 'You don't like walking?'

'I've never really had anywhere to walk.'

I felt his other arm slide under my legs, and he slowly stood. 'In that case, you will walk anywhere you like when we've got you some proper shoes.'

I liked the way he said "we". There wasn't anything in the rules that said I couldn't _enjoy_ running away with the wrong guy. Maybe it would be the best choice I ever made. I knew he only loved me for my beauty, but I didn't love him _at all_, so we were pretty even.

'So what do you do for a living?' I asked him, as we set off once again for the dark building.

He chuckled softly. 'I'm a scientist,' he said. 'I invent things.'

'Good things?'

'They're good for me.'

'So what's your new target? World domination?'

This time he laughed aloud. I liked his laugh; that was a good sign. It would be so much harder if he was annoying. 'Yes. I want to start a race of super-beings.'

Not sure whether he was joking or not, I waited.

'But of course, that's just my long-term target. My short term goal? I want a person to share my glory. To sit in the throne beside mine when I rule. How does that sound?'

'Terrifying,' I truthfully admitted. 'You're not going to do anything to my parents, are you?'

'I'll leave them alone, if you prefer. They're not a problem, at present.' We fell silent for a while as he strode calmly through the forest. The wood was now denser than ever, and hardly any sunlight filtered through the golden-leaved trees. 'So, Princess, why _did_ you run away?'

'I got bored of my tower.'

'So, you weren't ever planning to go back?'

'No, not really. Unless they went down on their knees and begged me.'

'I never met your parents. Is that likely?'

'I don't think my father can _see _his knees, he does nothing but eat; and my mother's too busy feeding him to notice I've gone. It's not likely at all.'

'Can I ask you something?'

'Shoot.'

'What's your name?'

Of course. I was known as The Princess to the rest of the village. I could make my name up, and he'd never know any different. I knew I was a good liar, and wouldn't this be a white lie? Who would I be hurting?

'My name's Nadine.' My voice oozed confidence.

'Nice name,' he said.

It is. At any rate, it's better than Arabella.

And it's _much _better than Princess.


	3. Chapter 3

By the way, I'm not sure whether the name Jericho works for the evil guy or not. I might change it, so let me know what you think, or if you have any ideas for a different name.

* * *

I was vaguely aware of a door being booted open, and of being laid on a sofa. Not the best sofa I'd been laid on, but a sofa nonetheless.

'Did I fall asleep?' I asked dimly.

'Yes. I tried not to wake you up.'

'Doesn't matter.' I sat up groggily. 'I can't see anything.'

'That's because it's dark.' I heard a hint of a smile in his voice. Jericho. Why had I run off with him again?

Oh yes. Revenge.

'You'll have to sleep there tonight, but we'll have you cleaned up and things in the morning. I'll only be in the room next door if you need me.'

_If you need me._ I smiled to myself. 'I don't know why people think you're evil,' I told him sleepily, sinking back into the pillows. 'You're the nicest person I've met.'

'You haven't met many people, then.'

'No. I haven't.'

'Good night, Nadine,' he said, softly.

'Night, Jericho,' I whispered, and fell comfortably back into my dreams.

'Are you sure this is… me?' I looked down at the tight, black satin dress I'd been placed in. 'It's not very good for walking.'

Every curve of my body was accentuated by the stiffness of the dress - even the ones I didn't want accentuated. Besides, if its neck got much lower, it would be round my waist.

'This is just to see if it fits you,' he said, admiring me from a distance. 'Yes,' he said, 'once we fix your hair, you'll look stunning in that. _These_ are your walking clothes.' He held up a pair of jeans and a shirt. A black pair of jeans and a black shirt, but still, they were normal clothes, and I rejoiced. 'Oh, Jericho! They're my first normal clothes!'

'They're only for walking and "hanging around" in, mind,' he said. 'I thought you'd like them. Right.'

He put the clothes down, and came up behind me, arms folded. I looked in the mirror opposite so I could see him better.

'_Now_ are you going to tell me why you look so pale? You didn't look this bad yesterday.'

'I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired.'

'Tired? You slept like a log last night, didn't wake once, and you think you're _tired_?'

I smiled. 'Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just naturally pale.'

I hopped down off my stool as best I could in the dress, and prepared to get changed. 'Now _these_ are clothes!'

I lived at Jericho's castle-like house for a week. Jericho recommended, after that first pale morning, that I walk at least twice a day. I walked three times - I'd seen what my dad had become, and was determined not to follow in his footsteps.

Jericho didn't join me often. Hardly at all actually; maybe the weather put him off - every day I battled the battering rain and violent winds for at least half an hour. But on my tenth day, it was the worst weather the village had seen for years.

Jericho had seemed not to notice, so I dragged back the heavy wooden door and fought against it anyway, determined to go for my walk. I had only got to the bottom of the path, when I discovered I was trembling violently, and the relentless rain had made my skin red and raw.

Without warning, the vehement wind took my feet out from under me, and I collapsed on my face in the grass. It was wet, and smelt of insects.

I hadn't enough strength to get up, so I lay and listened to the wind rock the trees in the surrounding forest, and the water drumming on Jericho's roof. Why had I got myself into this? What had caused me to walk out into this diabolical weather? And why couldn't I get up? Was I ill?

'Nadine!' A voice cried. I wondered why they sounded so alarmed. I was only lying down. I heard them run to me. By the sound of it, I hadn't gotten too far from the house. 'Nadine, you better not be dead or I'll… I'll… kill you!'

Jericho can't be a genius. He doesn't even know that he can't kill me if I'm dead. He can't kill me anyway. I'm not even dead.

He turned me over with hands that, even in my condition, felt colder than anything.

'Oh!' he shouted in shock, then swore. I wondered what I looked like. He was looking at me as if my face was rotting. When he picked me up to take me inside, he did it gingerly, with his face turned away.

He dropped me onto the sofa rather harder than he had that first night.

'What the hell were you doing out there in that? You could have killed yourself! Have you seen how you look right now?'

I shook my head, not yet trusting my voice.

Jericho started restlessly pacing the room. His face was unreadable as he stopped short in front of me after his eighth angry pace and snapped, 'Can you stand up?'

I tried to ignore the gruffness of his voice and struggled to sit up. 'I - I think so.'

He pulled me to my feet and crossed to the room I got dressed in every morning. There, in the full-length mirror, my reflection stumbled into view.

The pale face in the mirror gasped in shock as the sopping girl surveyed her trembling self. Her hair was a dirty yellow mess, sitting crudely like a nest on the top of her head, and her clothes were sticking to her frail body.

The worst thing was her face. She had clearly been beautiful once, but now it was a different story.

Her face was thin and sallow, throwing her cheekbones into greater relief; and deep purple shadows nestled under her bloodshot eyes.

This wasn't me. This could not be me.

Jericho had been observing this alongside me. Now he spoke.

'You didn't kill yourself,' he muttered. 'You killed your beauty.'

'But it's only been a week,' I moaned, 'I must be ill.'

'Must indeed.'

'Do you know what's wrong with me?'

'I haven't the faintest idea.'

'I've never had a cold before,' I said, brightening somewhat, 'Maybe it's that.'

Grimly, he shook his head. 'This is something much worse than a simple cold.'

'Will I ever look the same as I did before?'

By the tightness in his eyes, I gathered this was what was troubling him.

'I don't know,' he almost whispered. He shook his head again, and propped me against the wall. 'I'll get your bag.'

'Where are we going?'

He ignored me, dumped my rucksack beside me, and pulled on a raincoat. I tried again.

'Are you taking me home?'

'You could say that.'

He pulled my rucksack onto one shoulder and prepared to pick me up again.

'Hey - don't I get a coat?'

'I don't think a coat will do you much good now,' he said. He swung me up into his arms, and hesitated, taking one last look at me.

As his cold eyes met mine, it was as if a light was switched on in my head.

However, this was something I would rather not have seen. 'You think I'm going to die, don't you.'

The answer took a while. 'No.'

'Then you think I'll never be beautiful again. I'm no good to you if I'm not beautiful. You'll just take me back to my tower and I'll be alone again. One big happy ending.'

He set off, not meeting my eyes. 'Just try and sleep.'

Incredibly, I did.


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't know where I was, but I was definitely not in my tower. Rain was spattering onto my face, and I was sure it must have been cold, but I was too numb to notice.

What was this? A final act of kindness? He wanted me to be discovered, rather than leaving me up in my tower to rot, and not be noticed.

Hey, thanks, Jericho.

On the other hand, my chances of survival were very low right now. If someone didn't come along soon-

Someone slammed on their car's brakes. 'Holy crow! It's a person!'

A door opened. 'It's a girl, Moe. We have to take her to the hospital.'

'Aw, jeez, Andy, do we have to stop and pick up every tramp you come across? Just 'cause you're a doctor-'

'We can't leave her here to die.'

'Well _I _can. So long.'

A few moments, and a black car drove past. I guessed it was Moe's.

A man's face appeared over me, upside down. 'My god,' he cried, 'You're half dead!'

_I feel more than_ half_ dead right now_, I wanted to say, but my mouth didn't seem to want to move.

Andy looked around, looked back at me, and then bent down to pick me up. 'Don't worry,' he said, more to himself than to me, 'We'll get you to my hospital and you'll be fine. You'll be fine,' he repeated, to convince us.

It didn't work.

'She must've been very beautiful at one time, doctor.'

'Very. Who would've had the heart to dump her at the side of the road?'

'Not someone good, I'll wager.'

They were talking about me. I floundered around in my head, trying to make sense out of the words. I seemed to be drowning. I tried to open my eyelids but something was weighing them down.

'I'd bet it was Jericho again.'

The weights lifted and my eyes snapped open.

'Jericho,' I said. Then I looked at my surroundings. It was clearly a hospital; I'd done my fair share of reading back in my tower. And beside my bed stood a kind-looking copper-skinned nurse - and my rescuer. 'You!' I said.

He smiled, and I had to catch my breath; my heart had stumbled at the beauty of it. 'That's me,' he said. 'And I know who you are, too.'

'You do?'

'Yes; you're Arabella. Or would you prefer Bella?'

I gaped. 'How did you know?'

The nurse, whose name tag said 'Nurse L. Jameson', chuckled. 'You're famous, Bella. You're the one who escaped the tower.'

'And your name's sewn into your rucksack,' smiled Andy.

Damn and blast. I'd completely forgotten.

'Where's Jericho? Did he just leave me there?'

'We've searched everywhere, but we can't find him. We were going to alert the police - did he kidnap you?'

I couldn't hide a hint of pride as I said, 'I escaped from my tower on purpose. Jericho came across me, and since I had nowhere else to go, I went with him. He didn't do anything to me, but I got ill and he said he was taking me home.'

'You escaped? Why did you do that?'

I didn't want Nurse Jameson in the room while I talked about this, but I couldn't say so blatantly in front of her. Instead I darted a couple of glances at her, and hesitated. Andy caught on.

'Why don't you go see if Mr Griffiths is recovering, nurse? I'm sure he was calling for you earlier.'

Nurse Jameson nodded, and went to the other end of the ward. Andy reached across for the curtain by the bed and pulled it round, so I was screened from everyone else, aware that none of _them_ knew I was the princess. Then he sat in a chair close to my head, and waited.

'My prince never came,' I whispered.

Andy hung his head, and sighed. 'I was hoping you wouldn't say that.'

Puzzled, I leant up on one elbow to see him better. 'What?'

'Bella… It was me. _I_ was your prince. I was supposed to come for you, take you off on a horse… but I hate horses, and palaces, and how was I supposed to get up there to you?' He eyed my blonde mess. 'Forgive me, but you're not exactly _Rapunzel_, are you? So I neglected what my father called my "duties", and did what I'd wanted to do all my life - trained to be a doctor. I didn't think what that might've meant for you. I was selfish. I'm sorry.'

'Oh, I'm so _glad_ you were selfish! If you'd been some pompous prat on a pony, I never would have been happy. _I _hate princes, too… now I've been through that rubbish with Jericho, I'll think before I make a decision next time, so that I can make a sensible one.'

He still looked a bit apprehensive.

'I guess… I should be angry with you? For not coming?'

He shrugged. 'That's what I was expecting.'

'But I'm not.'

'I know. Why?'

'I'm not sure… I'm finding it hard to be mad at you. Probably because you're my rescuer - even if I wasn't in a tower at the time. Thank you, by the way.'

He smiled at me. 'My pleasure. What are you going to do now?'

'I really, really don't want to go home - I've been ignored all my life. They won't even know that I've gone.'

'You'll have to sometime. But until then…' He avoided my eyes and hurriedly garbled, 'Would-you-like-to-come-home-with-me?'

'Um, what?'

'Would you… like to… to come home with me? I know it's not a palace, but…'

'I'd love to. Of course I would.'

We smiled shyly at each other.

I had a feeling this was only the beginning of my new life.

He looked after me personally until I was well, then he provided me with rainbow-colourful t-shirts and jeans and packed my bags…

and we caught a bus into the sunset to his chalet in the suburbs.

**The End**


End file.
